Chapter 4 - The Silence of the Son
The priest hesitated,
his fingers fumbling with the seal,
the sound of the paper tearing like a gunshot in the hushed cathedral.
Dominic tried to snatch it away,
but Leo was already there,
his hand resting firmly on Dominic’s shoulder.
"Let him read it,
Dominic,"
Leo whispered,
his voice carrying a promise of violence.
The priest cleared his throat,
his eyes widening as he scanned the medical document.
"This is a certified record from the Everett Fertility Clinic,"
the priest began,
his voice trembling.
"Regarding Mr. Dominic Vance.
It confirms a permanent vasectomy procedure performed fourteen months ago."
A collective gasp ripped through the audience,
a sound of pure,
unfiltered shock that seemed to rattle the stained glass.
Dominic turned a ghostly shade of white,
his eyes darting to Brooke,
who was now shaking so violently that her veil was slipping.
"That’s a lie!"
Olivia screamed from the front row,
standing up and pointing at me.
"She forged it!
She’s jealous!
My grandson is in that womb!"
"Read the second page,
Father,"
I said,
my voice as steady as the stone beneath my feet.
The priest turned the page,
his face turning a sympathetic shade of pink.
"This is a paternity analysis.
The fetal DNA collected from a prenatal screening...
does not match the DNA of Dominic Vance.
It is a 99.9 percent match for Marcus Thorne."
The name Marcus Thorne was the final blow.
Dominic’s head of marketing,
his "best friend,"
who was standing right behind him as the best man.
Marcus didn't wait for the fallout.
He turned and bolted toward the side exit,
leaving a trail of silence in his wake.
Dominic collapsed against the altar,
his hands gripping the wood as if it were the only thing keeping the world from spinning away.
He looked at Brooke,
his face twisted in a mask of pure,
unfiltered hatred.
"You..."
he breathed,
the word a ragged,
broken thing.
Brooke didn't say a word.
She turned and ran down the aisle,
her white dress flowing behind her like a ghost escaping a grave.
"Wait!"
Olivia cried,
chasing after her,
her hat finally falling off and being trampled under the feet of the exiting guests.
I stood at the altar,
holding Grace,
watching the "Vance Legacy" dissolve into a chaotic swarm of reporters and confused socialites.
Dominic looked up at me,
his eyes filled with a desperate,
ugly light.
"Nora,
please.
We can fix this.
I was tricked."
"You weren't tricked,
Dominic,"
I said,
leaning down so only he could hear me.
"You were evaluated.
And you were found to be exactly what you are:
a man who built his life on the labor of a woman he didn't respect."
I pulled a second document from my bag,
the eviction notice for the penthouse and the revocation of the land leases.
"You have twenty-four hours to vacate the property,"
I said.
"The locks are being changed as we speak.
Your 'son' isn't coming,
May you like
Dominic.
And your daughter doesn't need a father who thinks she’s a burden."
